


Chinese Fridays

by eleanor_lavish, thepsychicclam



Series: Valiant Effort [25]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-18
Updated: 2009-07-18
Packaged: 2017-11-28 03:48:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eleanor_lavish/pseuds/eleanor_lavish, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepsychicclam/pseuds/thepsychicclam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, life doesn't go exactly as you plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chinese Fridays

**Author's Note:**

> Written by Clammy.

Billy walked into the apartment carrying plastic bags full of Chinese food from the little restaurant on the corner. When they first moved into the apartment it was a sort of tradition to buy take out lo mein, teriyaki and almond chicken, and pepper steak every Friday night after work and drink a couple cases of beers while sitting around the living room talking until the early hours of the morning.

They hadn’t done it in quite awhile, everyone always had plans after work, but Billy had insisted they do it this particular Friday night. Dom was recovering, still had a few aches, healing gashes, and fading bruises, and the band had an upcoming gig the next Monday. Billy felt it was time for some group quality time.

He set the bags down on the living room coffee table, glancing around the empty apartment. “Hello?” he called. The bedroom door opened and Elijah walked into the room.

“Food!” Elijah quickly crossed to the table and plopped down on the floor, rummaging through the bags for his pepper steak.

“Where are Dom and Orlando?” Billy asked, sitting on the edge of the couch. He picked up a container of egg rolls and sweet and sour sauce. He dipped the egg roll into the sauce and took a bite as he loosened his tie with the other hand.

“Dom’s on the fire escape smoking a joint and Orlando’s in the shower.”

Billy got up and stuck his head out of the window. Dom sat back against the wall, arms resting on his knees. He inhaled deeply, held the smoke for a few moments, then exhaled slowly.

“You know, Billy, when we become rich and famous, I’m going to buy a house that has a better view than the shite, rundown apartment building next door. That way I can smoke my joint and stare at trees and fields or a bloody nice skyline.” Dom offered the joint to Billy. Billy took it from Dom’s fingers, took a small hit, and gave it back to Dom.

“Come on. I’ve brought dinner.”

Dom got up and crawled through the window. He sat on the floor beside Elijah. “Did you get me the almond chicken?”

“I thought you ate teriyaki beef,” Billy said.

“I hate that shite! How could you forget, Billy?” Dom huffily opened a few of the containers, but looked up when Billy started laughing. “You’re an arse.”

“You’re the one who flipped out. ‘How could you forget, Billy?’ I know what you like, you tosser. Have I ever forgotten before?” Billy handed Dom a container.

“We haven’t done this in awhile. You may have forgotten. You are getting old, after all. Memory loss and all that.” Dom picked up a packet of chopsticks. He glanced over at Elijah scooping up rice and steak, but every time he lifted the chopsticks to his mouth, the food fell onto his shirt. Dom picked up a fork instead.

Orlando came out of the bathroom, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips, damp hair starting to dry into loose curls.

“His majesty has decided to join us. Art thou clean now?” Dom teased, and Orlando kicked him in the side as he walked by. “I’m still injured, arsehole.”

“You’re so pitiful.” Orlando rolled his eyes and sat down on the other side of the couch. Elijah handed him a container of lo mein.

Elijah got the first round of beers out of the refrigerator. They started talking about their week, Elijah and Dom’s exciting time doing nothing at home, Orlando’s usual run-ins with restaurant patrons who thought he was only a piece of ass for them to get their rich kicks from, and Billy getting threatened once again by his boss for missing time for the band. After finishing his food, Orlando reclined back on the sofa and eyed them all carefully.

“Okay, what gives? We haven’t done Friday night Chinese in like nine months and here we are again. Billy?” Orlando turned his dark gaze on Billy. Elijah and Dom did the same.

“We can’t just sit around and hang out?” They all shot him dubious glances. “All right. We need to talk.”

“I think I need cigarettes. That’s definitely a cigarette tone.” Elijah disappeared into the bedroom and returned with a pack of cigarettes and a pink lighter.

Orlando picked up the lighter and smirked. “Pink?”

“Fuck you. I’m queer, can’t I use a pink lighter?” Elijah giggled as he grabbed the lighter from Orlando and lit his cigarette. Orlando and Dom both took cigarettes from the pack. “We’re ready now, Billy. We have cigarettes and beer, everything we need for serious talk.”

“I’m glad you think this is funny,” Billy said seriously.

“I’ve put up with enough bad news bullshit recently. Just add more to it. It’s like a party.” Elijah propped his elbows on the coffee table. Billy shifted uncomfortably.

“It’s not bad, just serious. Now, I’m thinking about the best interest of the band, because someone has to. We’re fucking close. So close to making it big.” Billy paused, and Orlando, Elijah, and Dom looked at each other in confusion.

“We know this. What is it, Billy?” Dom asked, stubbing out his cigarette.

“Well. Dom, I think it’d be in the best interest of the band if you stopped selling drugs. Completely.” Elijah and Orlando both stared in shock, mouths slightly open. Dom grabbed another cigarette.

“I can’t do that. You know that. It’s the only way I can make rent each month.” Dom lit his cigarette and tossed the lighter down.

“You can spend the time and energy you put into dealing into a job. Ian would probably appreciate it if you came in to do the books more than once a week.”

“He’s right, Dom,” Elijah said quietly.

“You stay outta this,” Dom spat.

“I’m part of this band too, dammit! I get a say!” Elijah yelled.

“Fuck! Can’t you two be in a room more than thirty minutes without getting into it?” Billy said, exasperated. “Dom, listen. We care about you. You’re worth more than this small time drug peddling you do.”

“It’s not like people are lining up to give me a job,” Dom said.

“You have a job! You’re the bassist for Valiant Effort and you do the books at Ian’s bar.”

“You don’t fool me. It’s not about me, just the band.” Dom shook his head.

“Of course, you cunt! It’s always about the band! If it’s not, we’re never going to make it!” Billy jumped off the couch. “You’re not always going to be so lucky. One day you’ll be arrested or fucking _killed_. Is that what you want? We don’t need the bad press, not starting out.” Billy ran a hand through his hair and fell back to the couch.

“I care about this fucking band as much as you do!” Dom yelled. “I fucking followed you across the ocean because I believed in you and what we could do. I only fucking sell so we can keep a damn roof over our heads and electricity in this fucking dump. Don’t fucking imply that I don’t give a shite.”

“If you’d get your bloody head out of your arse for five seconds, maybe you’d realize I’m right. Can’t you think of someone other than yourself for once? Get a real job. Stop fucking around with your life. Hell, our lives. It isn’t that hard to stop selling fucking drugs. You’re better than that.” Billy shot a look at Orlando and Elijah. “Aren’t you two going to say anything?”

“I think it’s best if we stay out of this,” Orlando said.

“Go ahead. Tell me what you think. You’re all always taking the piss out of me. Saint Billy can do no wrong, Orlando’s too busy fucking his way to the top, and nothing gets penned on little innocent Elijah.” Dom stood up and stormed to the door. “You know, fuck you all.”

Dom flung the door open and disappeared down the hall.

*

Dom slammed Miranda's door hard when she let him in. She just looked at him stoically, raising an eyebrow in question.

"How dare they even...?" He wrenched open the refrigerator door to grab a beer, wincing when it hit his still-tender leg.

"Bad day at the office, dear?" Miranda couldn't keep the amusement out of her voice.

"Fuck off."

"We'll aren't we Mr. Sunshine today? I'm gathering this all-important meeting didn't go too well, then."

Dom was seething. He'd been angry when he left the flat, growing more and more pissed off as he rode the subway to Miranda's. He kept picturing Orlando's pointed looks, Billy's plea for the band, Elijah's worried glances.

"It was like a fucking intervention. I don't need an intervention, Mir. I need a group of friends who actually fucking _support_ me. I need the record to take off. I need Billy to stop treating me like an errant schoolboy." Dom was on a roll now, limping in quick jerky steps around Miranda's tiny kitchen. "I need Orlando to stop throwing MASSIVE fucking stones at my glass house. I need Elijah to stop," he slumped against the counter, "just _stop_."

"C'mere." Miranda led him by the hand back to the bed, sitting him on the edge and crawling up behind him to rub his shoulders. "You can't let them get to you like this."

"Can't help it." He winced as her fingers dug into a bruise and rubbed a hand over his face. "It didn't used to be like this. We didn't. It hurts just to be in a room with h-- them sometimes."

Miranda's voice was cool in his ear. "Maybe this is it then. Maybe this isn't what you should be doing."

Dom closed his eyes with a barked laugh. "That's just it, Mir. They're right. I don't know what else I'd do. I'm not good for fuck all."

"Bullshit. You can do anything you put your mind to." She climbed around to straddle Dom's lap and took his face in her hands. "You're smarter than the three of them put together. All they've done since I met you is criticize and hover. Billy is the most uptight bastard I've ever met. Even high, he won't totally let go."

Dom's face flushed hot as he remembered that night. "Mir."

She laughed and tugged him closer, biting his ear. "I say, just get the fuck out while you can. They're holding you back."

"I know they _care_ , it's just that."

"Do they?" Miranda's voice was low in his ear, and he rolled his head back as she ground slowly into him. "Do you think they would have really cared if you'd gotten jumped three months ago? They only want you to stop because it's bad for business now." Billy's words rang in Dom's ears. _It's always about the band. We don't need the bad press._ Hot tears stung the back of his eyes. He needed her to stop talking and pressing and rubbing and _talking_. He couldn't concentrate, couldn't form a decent  
argument. He knew she was wrong. She had to be wrong.

"No." He buried his face in her shoulder.

She pushed him down until he was flush underneath her. "You know I'm right." A carefully placed knee slipped between Dom's thighs and he bucked.

"I'm always right."

*

They had their monthly gig at Ian's a few days later. Dom hadn't been back to the apartment since his 'intervention', spending his days smoking fags out the window of Miranda's place and obsessing over his conversation with the band.

Dom was still sore everywhere; the beating had taken more out of him than he let on. He could still hear the voice of the biggest of the gang who had taken him in that alley-the one who had broken two ribs with a swift kick while he was down-saying, "You even try to get up, I'll make sure you never stand again." Dom had stayed down. He'd stayed down until he heard their footsteps running, heard the sirens, heard the EMT ask, "Can you hear me, son?" It had hurt to even blink, so Dom lay there in an alley in a foreign fucking country bleeding from pretty much everywhere until the EMTs tried to move him to a stretcher and he passed out from the pain in his shoulder.

At least the fuckers had stolen every single pill so he didn't get arrested on top of it.

He spent his time at Miranda's counting in cigarettes instead of minutes.

Four cigarettes spent thinking about Orli and his fucking bourgeois attitude and his pretty face that got him in too much trouble. Two cigarettes wondering what his Mum was doing today and feeling guilty for not calling. Three cigarettes trying to remember what he had wanted to be when he was five. Seven cigarettes listing every single annoying characteristic Elijah had, in order of annoyance level. Two more cursing Elijah for getting him started smoking these fucking things. Six cigarettes composing a diatribe  
against fucking Scotsmen who don't give a flying fuck about anyone, including themselves, and who are determined to makes themselves and everyone around them miserable.

Absolutely fucking miserable.

Dom sighed and ground out another butt in the potted plant on Miranda's windowsill. He would have to go back to work soon. His papers were coming due for review and the INS took a harsh view of musician/bookkeepers. At this rate, he was risking deportation anyway. His lungs hurt from the smokes and his head hurt from the thinking and everything else just _hurt_. And the dull, aching pain in his chest that had been there for months wasn't going away either. Every time he looked at Elijah, it tightened a little more. They had barely spoken in the weeks before what Orli had taken to calling 'the incident', and that had been okay. Not seeing Elijah was better. He had Miranda, and New York and business to attend to.

But he had woken up in the hospital, and Elijah (not Miranda, just Elijah) had been there, all curled up on himself and pale with worry. Dom had barely been able to breathe for fear of scaring him away. And he had hovered after that, always bringing Dom cookies, or another beer, or playing Scrabble with him. Dom was tempted to say it was like _before_ but looking back, there was never a before with Elijah, never a time when being around him didn't make him feel tight across the chest, didn't make breathing difficult. It's just that now the tightness was laced with a bitter taste that Dom couldn't quite recognize, but that may be disappointment, or self-loathing, or memory, or regret. Probably all of them.

He smoked and counted and rubbed at the itch behind his eyes and changed the gauze on his arm and thought about the last few gigs they played, where everything sounded _good_ and _right_ and _hard_ , but where Orli's pupils were almost blown and Billy didn't say a word to any of them after, and Elijah left with David and tried to look happy but failed most of the time and Dom was too fucked up to know the difference. And if that was what it took to make Valiant Effort great, if that was what it did to all of them, _fuck it all_.

Dom was out.

He'd tell them tonight, and pack his bags for home.

*

Elijah rode in the back of Viggo’s van, staring out at the passing buildings. Billy hummed beside him as he glanced over some of the sheet music for the night’s gig. Orlando and Henry sat in the seat in front of him, talking excitedly about some new video game that Viggo had just bought for Henry. Dom, of course, was not there. They hadn’t seen or heard from him since he stormed out of the apartment a few days ago. Sean assured them he would be at the gig, but it wouldn’t surprise Elijah if he didn’t show.

Finals had been keeping Elijah occupied, so between studying, barely scraping by on each test, and taking care of Dom, Elijah had been able to ignore the way things truly were within the group. But now that finals were over, he couldn’t ignore it any longer. Or his own feelings.

He knew that he was slipping, falling into depression and despair. He hated his life, hated Billy, Orlando, and most of all Dom, hated New York, hated every fucking thing. New York was supposed to be an escape for him, a chance to start over again, but instead it was a trap.

The night before, Elijah made a list. It was a list of places he could go instead of New York. There was his aunt in Los Angeles and his home back in Iowa, unless he wanted to transfer and start all over in a new town. But the more he thought about it, going home and transferring to the University of Iowa sounded better and better. A life away from New York, the fucking band, and Dom. Find a way to get him out of his life and maybe move on, find a nice guy that would treat him well and maybe even buy him dinner occasionally. All Elijah really wanted was someone to buy him dinner without the thought of Dom looming over his head.

He knew his mom and Hannah would welcome him home, be glad that he was back around. And it would be nice to be with people who liked him and wanted him there. Of course, it wouldn’t be perfect, there was his dad and the assholes in his town, but at least it’d be better than this fucking non-existence in New York. And right now all he wanted was to hide away from the world while his mother hugged him and told him it’d all be okay.

The list was shoved in a philosophy book along with notes from his last final. It was a temporary joy, thinking that he could disappear back home and his life would be good again.

Behind his drum kit during sound check, he felt a peace come over him that he hadn’t felt in awhile. He loved the music, loved playing and singing and being with his friends, if he could call them that anymore. For just a few short hours, he could forget everything and just play.

In the dressing room, he smelled the familiar sweet scent of marijuana and knew Dom was just outside the door. Elijah picked up the black eyeliner pencil and smudged it beneath his eyes. Dark circles spread out from his eyes, making them look even larger on his face. The eyeliner just intensified it, and for a moment, Elijah realized how bad he looked.

The door opened behind him, and Dom came in. He handed the joint he was smoking to Elijah, and Elijah puffed thoughtfully as he watched Dom line his eyes with the same charcoal pencil. Dom didn’t look that great either; none of them did really. Orlando was too thin, Billy had worry lines all across his face. Dom hadn’t shaved in days, and his hair looked like he hadn’t showered. Elijah wanted to say something, wanted to tell Dom that he loved him, that everything would be okay because he heard in a movie or a song once that love is all you need to be happy.

Dom tossed the pencil onto the counter and took the joint from Elijah’s fingers. Without a look back, he left the dressing room. And Elijah realized that for the first time ever, Dom didn’t kiss him before a show.

*

The diner was basically empty, so the seven of them had the place to themselves. Viggo, Sean, and Henry sat in the booth across the way, leaving Orlando, Dom, Billy, and Elijah to themselves. They talked easily, because if there was one thing the four of them was good at, it was denial. But soon a silence fell over the table, and Elijah sat picking at his pancakes, twirling whipped cream and syrup around with his fork.

“I think we need to start practicing a few more times a week before our next gig,” Billy said, breaking the silence, the bacon on his plate forgotten.

“There’s not going to be a next gig,” Dom said, not looking up from his hamburger.

“And why not?” Billy asked. Elijah glanced at Orlando, a knot forming in his chest.

“I’ve decided to quit the band. It’s just not working anymore.” Dom finally looked up, appearing cool and collected except for his ears that were a deep red.

“Excuse me?” Billy said. “You just can’t fucking _quit_.”

“Yes, I can. This way you don’t have to worry about your bad press or drug dealing bassist. I’ll move out immediately. It’s really a win-win situation for everyone.”

The table was deathly quiet. Sean laughed at something Viggo said at the table across from them, missed the entire revelation, and dishes clanged from the kitchen. Elijah looked at all three men, trying to form a sentence, but nothing came out. Dom, his Dom, was leaving. It was over. Billy’s dream was crumbling in his hands while Elijah’s own dream was leaving him forever.

“You’re a selfish cunt,” Elijah spat. He jumped up from the table; he couldn’t get out fast enough. He was suffocating. He ran out of the restaurant, ignoring the cries of his friends behind him. He didn’t care; he had to leave. The only thing keeping him there was gone. A New York without Dom didn’t exist; Dom was his world. He loved Dom more than the music, the skyline, the little bakery on the corner that sold the warm bagels with home-made cream cheese. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for him and now he was leaving.

Elijah didn’t know where he was running, didn’t even like to run, but he felt he couldn’t stop. The burn in his legs and lungs took away some of the pain inside. Dom was an asshole, leaving Orlando who was his best friend, Billy who depended on him to keep him and his dream alive. But most of all, leaving Elijah who wanted nothing more than to love him freely.

Somewhere between Delancey and Houston, Elijah realized what he had to do.

He was moving back to Iowa.

*

Orlando finally had a night off. It seemed that between the band and the restaurant he never had any nights to himself. Billy and Elijah were at work, and Dom, well, Dom didn’t come around much anymore. Everyone seemed to have opinions on the Dom quitting the band thing, but Orlando wasn’t sure what he thought. Dom was his best friend; he loved him like a brother. Yes, he was worried, but Dom was grown. No matter what happened, he knew they’d stay friends and close together. It’s just what they did. But it still didn’t change the fact that he was bloody pissed at the man right now.

He had his screwdrivers, which he’d recently started drinking religiously, a pepperoni and black olive pizza, and a few new releases from the video store he’d been wanting to see. But before he even had a chance to settle onto the couch comfortably, the phone rang.

Setting his glass beside the pizza box on the coffee table, Orlando stood up and followed the sound of the ringing phone around the apartment. In Billy and Elijah’s room, he kicked at the dirty jeans and tees around Elijah’s mattress, finally finding the phone inside a maroon converse. “Disgusting,” Orlando muttered to himself as he dug the phone from the shoe. He hit the talk button.

“Hello?” Orlando walked back into the living room.

“Orlando?” His mother said. He stopped dead in his tracks. His mother never called him, only sent postcards occasionally. Orlando didn’t even know she had this number.

“What’s wrong?” Orlando sat on the edge of the couch, picked up the glass and sipped it nervously.

“Oh honey. I wish there was a better way to do this, I hate doing this over the phone.” She paused, and Orlando didn’t breathe. “Love, it’s your father.”

“Is he okay?” Orlando asked slowly.

“No, he’s not. He. Oh honey, he died of a massive heart attack last night.”

The phone fell from Orlando’s hand. His father couldn’t be dead. This was a cruel joke to get him to take over the family business or make him feel bad for being a terrible son. He wasn’t really dead. It was his dad. He couldn’t die.

Orlando heard his mother calling out to him faintly from the phone, and he picked it back up, gripping it tightly. “I’m here, ma,” he croaked out.

“You’ve got to come home. The funeral’s in a couple of days, and there’s the will and settling of the estate. And I want you here.” She sniffed and Orlando felt a lone teardrop roll down his cheek.

“I’ll fly out tomorrow.”

*

He had been crying for about an hour. Once the tears started, they didn’t want to stop. He tried to drink them away, but after two drinks Orlando threw the vodka bottle against the wall. It shattered into a hundred pieces and the vodka soaked into the carpet.

A dream. That’s what it was, a really horrible dream he would wake up from tomorrow. The last thing he’d said to his father – hell, he couldn’t even remember, but he knew it wasn’t friendly. But Orlando had thought that in time his father would accept him, see his CD on sale at HMV and maybe drop by one of his concerts and then come up to him after the show and tell him how _proud_ he was of him. But that would never happen now, and Orlando would always be a disappointment to his father.

Orlando glanced up when he heard the flat door open. Billy took one look at him and crossed the room in three steps.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the table in front of him. Orlando ran a hand through his hair.

“Um. My father died last night,” Orlando croaked, choking back a sob. He rubbed the cross tattoo on his forearm, trying to draw some sort of strength from it. He thought ironically about the cross and Chinese symbol “faith” tattoos inked into his body. He had no faith or hope left.

“Oh my god,” Billy said. “I’m. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m flying to England tomorrow, for the funeral and all,” Orlando said, voice monotone.

“Are you going alone?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t told anyone else. Do you want to come with me?” Orlando looked up, felt hopeful until he saw Billy’s face. “Forget I asked.”

“I wish I could,” Billy said. He got up and walked towards the kitchen. “Do you need anything?”

“Will you sit with me?” Orlando watched Billy shift from foot to foot, glance uneasily around the room.

“Orlando, it’s probably – “

“Can we just forget everything for tonight and just be Orlando and Billy?” Orlando didn’t care about anything, whatever was keeping them apart and what things had happened between them. He needed Billy.

“Okay,” Billy said. He sat down on the couch beside Orlando, and Orlando immediately curled against him. Billy wrapped his arms around him, and Orlando slipped his hand into Billy’s. He felt secure.

Orlando didn’t know what to think. What would happen now to his mom? Their house? Who would take over the business? He had been away for so long that he didn’t know what was going on. What a homecoming he’d have.

“Thanks for being here,” Orlando whispered, lifting his face to stare up at Billy. Billy smiled, and Orlando felt temporarily better. The pain didn’t go away, the fear and the loss, but he didn’t feel so _alone_. “It means a lot.”

Billy leaned down and pressed his lips softly against Orlando’s. Orlando shifted slightly to get better access to Billy’s mouth, cupped Billy’s cheek with his hand. His tongue pushed into Billy’s mouth, Billy’s tongue as eager against his own. Billy tasted so sweet.

Billy pulled away slightly and kissed the tip Orlando’s nose. Orlando laid his head back on Billy’s chest, fingers interlaced with Billy’s.

*

“I’m going with you,” Elijah said with finality. Orlando shook his head as he threw a few more shirts into his disorganized suitcase.

“No, you’re not.”

“I am. I called my parents last night and told them I was going to stay in England with a friend from college. They were excited I was getting a cultural experience. Ticket’s waiting for me at the airport. No use in wasting it.” Elijah grinned triumphantly and Orlando threw his arms around him.

“Thank you.” He pulled away, wiping his cheeks hastily. “I appreciate it.”

“You’re one of my best friends, you fucker. Of course I’m going. You can’t go to your father’s funeral alone!” Elijah pulled his own duffle bag from its place crumpled in the corner and looked around. “I think all my clothes are dirty.”

“Mind if I come in?” Dom said, leaning against the doorway. Orlando walked over to him and fell into his arms. He held onto Dom, the only person who knew his family almost as well as he did. Dom was there when Orlando’s father had beaten him unconscious and disowned him, helped pack his bags when he left. “I’m sorry.”

“The old bastard probably deserved it,” Orlando said. He sat down on Billy’s mattress, Dom sitting beside him.

“Don’t say that. He was still your father.”

“He probably wrote me out of the will, and I’m left with nothing.” Orlando picked up a pair of jeans and folded them. Now that the initial shock was over, he was starting to feel cynical towards his father again.

“Don’t think of that now. Just go to England and take care of this shit.” Dom patted Orlando on the back.

“Aren’t you going too? You knew Orli’s dad,” Elijah said.

“I can’t.”

“Why not? Don’t tell me it’s because you can’t afford it. Viggo or Ian or even Sean would buy your ticket.”

“It’s not that, Elijah,” Dom said. “I just can’t.”

“Let me guess. Miranda. Well, fuck her and fuck you, Dominic Monaghan.” Elijah shot up suddenly and advanced on Dom. Towering above Dom like that, Elijah looked menacing, even with his small stature. If it hadn’t been such a serious moment, Orlando may have laughed. “I’m tired of your selfish bullshit. Orlando is your fucking best friend. You guys have been best friends for like six or seven years! You owe him more than that.”

“It’s none of your goddamn business,” Dom spat, standing up. Elijah backed up a few steps, but held his ground.

“For five seconds, pretend you don’t hate my fucking guts and listen to me. He won’t say it, but he wants you by his side when they bury his father. Yeah, I’ll be there, but I didn’t know his father. _You_ did.” Elijah poked Dom in the chest. “You’re his friend, Dom.”

Dom pushed Elijah’s shoulder, knocking him off-balance for a second. “I don’t need you to tell me what to do. It’s not like we’re together or anything. So, get a clue and just fuck off, Elijah.” Dom stormed out of the room. Orlando heard the flat door slam and closed his eyes slowly.

He couldn’t handle all this at one time; it’s like everything in his life decided to go wrong. Dom wouldn’t be there with him, the one person he always thought he would be able to depend on. The band was over, the one thing in his life that made him feel _alive_. Billy wasn’t going with him, even though Orlando wanted him by his side more than anyone else. But the one upside, and Orlando had struggled to find an upside in this whole mess of a life, was that he was going as far away from Bean as possible, which meant that he no longer had to be his sex toy. At least there was that. But in comparison to everything that was going wrong, it seemed like nothing.

From across the room, he heard Elijah crash a book against the wall.

*

Their bags were packed, and the taxi was waiting downstairs. Elijah said goodbye to Billy, and Dom helped carry their bags downstairs. Orlando and Billy stood across from one another, not moving or speaking. Orlando didn’t want to say goodbye. With Dom quitting the band, there was no telling the next time he’d see Billy. And that hurt almost as much as the loss of his father.

“Well,” Billy said awkwardly. “Goodbye.”

“Come with us. With me,” Orlando began. He had to convince him to come. “I need you there by my side. I don’t know if I can do it alone.”

“You’ll have Elijah.”

“But he’s not you.”

Billy didn’t say anything, and Orlando thought he had won, convinced him to go with him. The thought of facing all this without Billy around terrified him.

“I followed you to New York once, can’t you follow me back to England, just for a few days?” Orlando pleaded.

“I can’t, Orlando. I’m sorry.” Billy toyed with the watch on his wrist. “The cab’s waiting. You better go.”

Orlando picked up his suitcase and walked out of the flat, Billy watching after him sadly. Orlando made it to the stairwell and dropped his suitcase, spinning on his heel and running back into the flat. Billy stood exactly where Orlando left him.

Orlando grabbed Billy by the arms and kissed him deeply. When he pulled away, Billy stared at him in surprise.

“I love you, Billy. Don’t forget that.”

Orlando, heart heavy and sad, walked back out of the flat and joined Elijah in the waiting cab.

*

Billy was still standing in the kitchen when Dom came back up from the cab. He watched as Dom hesitated in the doorway.

"Um. Bills? You okay, mate?"

"Yeah." It hurt to talk to Dom. Hurt to talk to anyone.

"I'm just gonna." And he motioned toward the bedroom. Billy wondered if he still had anything left at the apartment to pack up. He barely lived there.

"'S fine." Dom walked quickly past him and down the hall. Billy still hadn't moved from his spot in the kitchen. He was afraid to, honestly. He didn't have any idea what direction to go in next. So he stood there, tapping out the bass lines and drum beats of his favorite VE songs on the kitchen counter. The songs that brought the house down last Monday night. _Was it really only Monday?_

Four days. In four days, Billy had lost everything that meant anything. The band was over, Dom was moving out, and Orli. Orli was going home. Billy knew it would be a miracle if he ever came back to New York. What did he have to come back to? A job as a waiter? Dom back in the hospital after another beating? Billy was pretty sure Elijah wouldn't stay long either, especially if Dom left town. Maybe he'd finish out at NYU. Probably not.

And Billy knew he'd fucked up too badly for Orlando to come back to _him_. He stood in the kitchen waiting for the relief to wash over him. This was what he wanted. Orlando gone. Orlando far away from him. Eventually Orli would meet someone who would love him and worship him and _take care_ of him like Billy couldn't. He'd move on, and Billy could feel free to live his quiet, solitary life. The one he'd lost three years before, the night he'd met Orlando Bloom.

But standing there, alone, Billy didn't feel relieved. He felt crushing, blinding pain. He felt like he was dying.

Dom emerged from the bedroom holding a worn leather backpack stuffed with the remnants of his life with Valiant Effort. He stopped in front of Billy.

"I'll come by for the fish in a few days, okay?"

"Sure." He could barely get the word out.

"Billy." Dom reached out to touch his arm and Billy lurched back like he'd been stung. "Billy. This is stupid. You should go."

"Dom. don't." He couldn't breathe. Not even Dom understood. _Dom of all fucking people._

"Seriously, Bills. He needs you."

"He needs you too, asshole," Billy spat at him. "Why aren't you going? And I don't need him _needing_ me."

"I'm not the same and you know it."

"You're as good an option as me, Dominic. You're his best friend and you didn't go because your fucking vampire girlfriend has you pussywhipped, and you are afraid of Elijah, who, I might add, would blow over in a strong wind. You're afraid if you let him in, he might see who you really are and hate your living guts!" He was screaming now, watching Dom turn red with anger. "So don't you stand here in MY fucking kitchen and pull a guilt trip on me, you fucking hypocrite!"

Dom's gaze was steadier than he'd seen it in months. "Fine. You're right." He shouldered his bag and took a small step toward Billy, his voice as low and firm and steady as his gaze. "I'm going, then. I love him and he needs me."

Billy didn't ask which one he was talking about. He watched dumbfounded as Dom turned and opened the door.

"The flight leaves as midnight. British Air." And he was gone.

There were muffled voices in the hall as Billy tried to process what had just happened. _Dom's going? I'm right?! Fucking hell._

"Billy!" Viggo's voice made him jump and he dragged his eyes back to the door. Viggo and Sean stood in the open doorway, Sean balancing the baby on his hip.

"What are you doing here, guys?"

Sean came bustling into the kitchen and unceremoniously handed a fussing Ali to Billy. "We came to see Orli off…yes, sweetie, Daddy's looking for it…but Dom says we just missed him." He pulled a little pink pacifier out of his large shoulder bag and stuck it in Ali's mouth. "I didn't know Dom was going too. But why didn't he take the cab with Lij?"

"Sean." Viggo cut him off, his eyes fixed firmly on Billy. The look reminded Billy of Dom's the moment before-unflinching, pointed.

He swallowed hard, trying to bring his voice back under control. It seemed he couldn't speak between a whisper and a shout these days. _For a singer, you seem to have a hard time, Boyd._ "Vig. sorry, but I was just going to bed, so."

"No you weren't." Viggo's arms were crossed and he looked pretty fucking pissed off. Billy swallowed again as Sean took Ali back from him and retreated into the living room. Billy tried to follow, but Viggo stepped in front of him. "Why aren't you on that plane?"

"Excuse me?"

"He needs you, Billy."

Billy couldn't help rolling his eyes. "So I've been told. Unfortunately, so does my boss."

"You hate your job."

"So!?"

"So. He needs you. You know which is more important."

"Besides," Sean piped up from the couch, "the record is ready to go, man. You would have had to quit soon anyway."

Billy groaned inwardly. Sean was still convinced that the band would be fine. That Dom was just feeling a little burned out after the hospital. Sean was delusional and way too fucking cheerful, in Billy's opinion. "There is no record, Seanie."

"I beg to differ…sweetie, leave daddy's hair alone…but Bean and I sat down with marketing and we think it's going to be huge. You just need some good exposure."

"Like in England, maybe?" Viggo was still staring him down.

"Viggo! He's got Lij and Dom. He's fine!" Billy felt like he'd had this conversation one too many times tonight.

"He's not fine."

"Viggo!"

"He hasn't been fine for months. You think all that shit with Bean's been for kicks? He feels unwanted and unloved and used and really fucking stupid for following you here. He feels _alone_. And now he's lost his father and there is only one person in the world who can make any of that pain go away and he's standing here in front of me like a stubborn moron."

Billy was reeling. Viggo _never_ talked like this. Viggo was…nice. He tried to explain, to make Viggo _see_. "If he thinks he needs me, Vig, better he get over it sooner rather than later. Before."

"Before what?"

"Before he realizes that needing someone like that just leads to heartache. That I'll disappoint him. That it's never worth all that."

"All that what?" Viggo's voice never wavered, nor did his gaze.

"Pain! All that fucking _pain_ , Viggo!" Billy choked on the words in frustration and ran his hands roughly over his face.

"What do you think he's in now?" Viggo's voice was gentler now, and he reached out a hand to rub Billy's shoulder. "His father."

"He'll get over it," Billy cut in bitterly.

"How do you know?"

Billy reared at that, swatting Viggo's hand away angrily. "Because I did. I got over it without anyone! He doesn't need me to hold him up. I lost them _both_ and got through it just fine!"

"Did you, Billy?"

This was just. Viggo didn't _know_. No one _knew_ what it felt like to be truly alone. Billy closed his eyes and tried to scrub from his mind the picture of a scrawny little boy with dirty hair and a ratty school uniform kneeling in the cemetery on a cold October day-beating the ground, cursing God, learning the hard way in one afternoon what _alone_ really meant. He tried to tell Viggo to fuck off, but no words would come. He didn't realize he was shaking until Viggo took both Billy's shoulders in his big hands and pulled him close until their foreheads were touching.

"Billy."

He wasn't listening to Viggo. He was stuck in the past; in a place he didn't let himself go, ever. _Just breathe, just fucking breathe. You haven't cried about this in years, Boyd. Just breathe you fucker._

"Billy, he doesn't need you to hold him up. Look at me. _Look at me!_ "

His eyes eased open slowly to see Viggo's face inches away.

"He just needs you to sit with him and hold his hand. He just needs to feel you standing next to him. That's all he needs." He leaned in and kissed Billy lightly on the temple. “That's it."

Billy exhaled slowly. "That's it."

*

"Last call for British Airways flight 4783 to London."

The flight was unusually empty for a red eye, so Orlando and Dom spread into the left side of a row, leaving Elijah sprawled on the right. The funeral was in two days, and Orli had spent most of the time in the airport on the phone with his Mum discussing logistics. Dom had shown up while they were still in line and paid for his ticket with cash from a few debts he'd called in on his way over – pit stops on his cab ride.

They were all close to asleep, ready to tune out the in-flight safety video, when a small commotion broke out in the front of the plane.

"Moron's never heard of a two hour check in on international?" Dom grumbled and tucked his head to the right, finding it hard to stay comfortable in the tiny seat.

"Would've sucked if he'd missed it, though," Orlando said, yawning into the window and not bothering to open his eyes.

"Shhhh," Elijah stuck his leg across the aisle, trying to poke Dom with his foot.

A minute later, the stewardess was shaking Orlando awake. "I'm sorry, sir, but this gentleman insists that this is his seat, although he won't show me his ticket."

Dom and Elijah opened their eyes at Orli's sharp intake of breath. Dom moved across the aisle as Elijah grinned happily.

Billy sat down next to Orlando without a word and took his hand.

 

~Fin  



End file.
